


ab initio

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: “Rose, I want you to have that jumper. I want you to have something of his that reminds you of him. And he was completely yours anyway, so really you’re just taking back what’s yours.”Ten x Rose, fluff. New Year's Day, set betweenthe Christmas InvasionandNew Earth
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	ab initio

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompt: "You still have that?"

It was New Years Day, 2006, and the four of them were dreadfully, _abysmally_ hungover. 

The Doctor? Not so bad. He could just about get away with using the excuse of having recently regenerated and his sensitivity to alcohol was a little high. Pounding headache, sore throat from all the singing, but otherwise ok. Jackie had seen much better days for sure but - and much to her credit, so thought the Doctor - she was still doing a pretty bang-up job of answering every question on _Catchphrase_. Terribly, of course. Drastically poor, most were completely wrong; a personal highlight of his being “ _pick me up,_ _water cup”_ instead of the more well-known variant “ _pick me up,_ _buttercup”._ Poor Rose had fallen asleep curled up on the sofa next to her box of _Domino’s_ from a couple of hours ago and it might be a stretch to say she’d spent as many as three hours awake that day. Mickey was the real victim in all of this; the Doctor could not be sure he was in fact still alive. If only he himself were a little bit more cognisant and could find the self-regulatory skill required to check. 

“Mickey?”

A grunt; a confirmation that the boy was still breathing. 

They survived it, in the end. The four of them, somehow, and the first full day of 2006 was spent in virtually the same space from start to finish; strewn across the sofas in Jackie Tyler’s living room. As time went on, they became a little more lucid - even had a game of monopoly at the coffee table. Jackie put out a selection of Quality Streets and Wine Gums, and the jail cell had mostly been inhabited by either Rose or the Doctor. Which was quite typical of their normal life. 

“Want us to call you a taxi home?” The Doctor asked Mickey between mouthfuls of cake as Rose helped Jackie dry the dishes in the kitchen.

“You _know_ I only live two stories up.”

“Yes, but _up_ stairs. Sure you can handle it?” 

“Thanks for your _concern_ ,” he mocked. “But I think I can manage.” He pulled himself up to his feet and the Doctor had to stifle a laugh at the look of sheer dread colouring his face. 

“Sure?”

Mickey held onto the mantlepiece for support. “On second thought, it might be good if that TARDIS of yours could just drop me off at my flat.”

The Doctor scoffed, folding the paper cupcake liner and chucking it into the empty tin of Quality Streets. “I’m not using my time machine, the last of her kind, grown for centuries upon centuries as a _Stannah Stairlift_.”

“I helped Rose get back to you and save your scrawny arse so you _owe_ me.”

“Alright, that you did. Tell you what, I’ll give you a hand up the stairs. ‘could do with a bit of fresh air anyway.”

* * *

Rose was dozing on the sofa by the time the Doctor returned. It was late, a little past 2 in the morning, and the flat was quiet save the infrequent car horn in the low hums of the outside world and Jackie’s snoring in the adjacent room.

She opened her eyes when he walked in and yawned sleepily. “Blimey, thought I’d have to send out a distress call across time and space. What happened to you?”

“We ended up having a game of Fifa, then I helped get him into bed. So, at least I have something to use as leverage in the future.”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” she chuckled. Her heart fluttered at the idea of this Doctor becoming friends with Mickey, but it was suppressed by a sting as she remembered him not _quite_ being the Doctor, not yet. At least to her. “Mum’s gone to bed.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

He sunk into the sofa, loosening his tie and glancing over at Rose. She’d closed her eyes again, a soft smile donned her face. Her knees were tucked under her chin as she rested against the backrest of the sofa, her arms wrapped around her shins. His brow furrowed.

“Wait a minute, was that mine?”

“Was what yours?”

“That jumper?”

“Oh.” She looked down and tugged at the sleeves sheepishly. “Um, yeah, sorry I, er…” she trailed.

“You still have that? Thought the TARDIS would have locked it all back in the wardrobe.”

“I sort of nicked it. I know she has everything else but, I dunno. Snuck it out at the last minute.” She looked at him wearily. “Is that ok?”

He looked back at her, perplexed. “I mean, yeah, but w _hy_?”

“Why did I nick it, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

She averted her gaze. Her lips drew thin and her brow drew together. Facing some inner turmoil, he regretted.

“Alright, let’s talk about this. C’mon.” He turned so his back was against the armrest, mirroring her pose by bringing his knees to his chest so that they were both facing each other on opposite ends of the sofa. She repositioned herself slightly to sit up a little straighter. She put her feet on his and she focused down on them.

“I guess I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you.”

“No -“ he chuckled “ - I’m not going to give you a telling off, Rose. It really is ok, promise. I just think, y’know, it's been a week now and it might be time to… maybe chat about it.”

She looked up at him with a smile, suppressing a giggle. “Bloody hell, this new regeneration of yours is a _talker!_ ”

“It would appear so!”

“And you’re still trying to convince me you _are_ the same man?”

“I think at this point even _I’m_ asking myself if I’m the same man.”

They chuckled and he looked at her fondly. Her eyes were drooping and she looked exhausted; part of him thought perhaps this wasn’t a conversation for now. But he watched her as she fiddled nervously with the jumper and she looked so dreary that he refused to let her sleep until he’d triumphed over her worries. 

“I just, I dunno. I _miss_ him, so much.” She scrunched her face up and groaned. “I’m sorry, I know this must be really hard for you-“

“No, no it isn’t. Promise,” he reassured her, wiggling his toes beneath hers. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Ok, it is _a little_ hard, but it’s to be expected.” He grinned, and she returned a small smile. “Just- ok. I know I’m still trying to convince you I’m the same man but for the next few minutes, pretend that I’m just a friend, yeah? One of your mates from school, and you’re just getting it all out.”

She laughed. “Oh, we definitely wouldn’t have been friends in school.”

“Why not?!”

“You’d _absolutely_ have been in with the science geeks! Spending your breaks in the library and gettin’ excited over the periodic table and magnets.”

“Quite right, too. Well, where were you then?”

“Probably skippin’ the whole thing.”

He pointed at her. “Rose Tyler, don’t you go putting yourself down like that, I know for a _fact_ you were hard working in school.”

She looked down and sighed sadly. “Didn’t get me very far, did it?”

“Oh I don’t know, you did save the world last week so you’re getting there.”

But she didn’t laugh like he’d hoped she would. She was quiet, considering for a moment, unsure of whether to go on or what she might say. He lay quiet, watching her carefully. He didn’t want to push her into talking about it, but he also wanted her to know that she could.

“He left me.”

He’d known she’d been thinking it, but it still flooded his body with a sorrow unlike any other. He kept his features still. “Bloody idiot, that chap of yours. Sounds like a flight risk.”

She chuckled. “That sums him up to a T.”

He watched her smile fade and she closed her eyes; he could tell a different man sat before her when she did.

“I don’t know, it’s like he didn’t even say goodbye. He was standing there one minute and the next he wasn’t and now I’ll _never_ get a chance to see him again. I won’t even get a chance to say goodbye. And that’s pretty crap really.”

He looked at her hands, unable to draw his gaze from the tenderness in which she ran her fingers over the cuffs of his jumper. Delicate things, those hands of hers. He’d held them a hundred times yet now only once; he couldn’t quite remember the feel of her skin against his now softer hands. When he looked up she was looking back at him wearily. He smiled sweetly, reassuringly, and she mirrored his expression. 

He was entranced to see that her smile only widened, looking at him fervently. “Come ‘ere.” She started shuffling towards the middle of the sofa, beckoning for him to meet her halfway. He scrambled forwards until they met, their knees tucked into their chests, squeezed together on the tiny sofa, one besides the other. “I want to touch your face.”

“You want to _touch_ my _face_?”

“Yeah!”

He looked at her in bewilderment, but didn’t shy away from her when she reached out to him. She hesitated, narrowing her eyes and searching for any discomfort or disapproval from him, but he remained still. She breathed in and her fingers gently touched his cheek. Tracing his cheekbone, running over the bridge of his nose and down its length, counting the freckles dotted in the nearby vicinity. She glided her fingers north to his brow bone, smoothing the hairs of his eyebrows, dipping when she reached his temple. When she tickled his sideburns he shuddered and she giggled, before she ventured to his hair. She gasped dramatically at the sheer volume and he winked.

“I just feel like I knew his face so well, you know? Like, down to every dry patch and being able to tell how long it’d been since he’d shaved.”

“Do I need to get a restraining order on you?”

She scoffed. “Like that’d stop me.” She rolled her eyes and sighed wistfully. “I dunno, I guess I just wanna know your face that well, too.”

He nodded in understanding, and she dropped her hand, pulling her knees closer and leant against his leg. Her head rested on his knee and he hesitated, before daring himself to reach out and lightly brush his fingers through her hair. She sighed to his touch, inspiring a tantalising flutter in his chest. _Enough, now_. He pulled his hand away and she opened her eyes.

“I just- it feels a little bit like I’m getting a hug from him when I wear this jumper” - she shook her head and tutted - “God, I’m sorry, you must think I’m a right loon.”

He laughed. “” _News at Ten:_ Rose is a loon and the Pope’s a Catholic”.”

“Sod off.”

She raised her foot and nudged his arm with it. He nudged her in return, but she lost her balance and nearly tumbled over the edge of the sofa. He quickly seized her arms to steady her, before slipping back down to lay his head on the armrest. She watched him carefully as he did and she paused, considering something in her mind. He looked back at her, and whatever it was she saw in him in that moment gave her the confidence to move forward, adjusting her position to lie down next to him and he wiggled as close as he could to the back of the sofa, giving her enough space to be comfortable. She rested her head on his chest tentatively, and he encouraged her confidence by gently brushing the back of his fingers across her arm.

“Rose, I _want_ you to have that jumper. I want you to have something of his that reminds you of him. And he was completely yours anyway, so really you’re just taking back what’s yours.”

Her chuckle vibrated against his chest, seeping through and reaching his hearts. “I never thought of it like that. So, if I’m hearing you right, and you _are_ the same man, and that old you was _mine_ , then that means I’ve got _two_ of you, two of my own time lords, right?”

“That bloody logic of yours. Impeccable. Can’t fault it.”

He felt her cheeks move and knew she was smiling. He closed his eyes at the thought.

“You could stay here tonight, if you wanted. Rather than go back to the TARDIS.”

“Oh, it’s alright. She’s only around the corner.”

“Doctor?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m asking you to stay. This new you. To stay. With me, here. Tonight.”

“Oh!” he flustered. He’d been spending the hours she slept this week back in the TARDIS; sometimes he’d stay in the flat and read, but it drove him insane after sitting in the same spot for more than an hour. He hadn’t asked her to come back to the TARDIS, and he hadn’t asked her whether she wanted him to hang around here. “Are you sure?’

“I mean, unless you had too much fun tucking Mickey in earlier that you couldn’t possibly handle doing it again with someone else.”

“Tucking Mickey into bed tonight was enough tucking-Mickey-into-bed for a lifetime,” he muttered. “But I have yet to fill my quota up of you, so c’mon. Bed.”

She swung her legs around and planted her feet on the floor, yawning. He tutted.

“Making me sleep in a bloody suit. Remind my next incarnation to pick pyjamas as everyday attire.”

“I’ve got a jumper you could borrow it you want?” She winked, and he scoffed.

“The last time I wore that jumper I’d just finished burning up in flames and my favourite person in the universe told me she wanted me gone, so, it doesn’t bring about the _fondest_ of memories.”

“Who said I meant this one? Na, this one’s all mine, I meant that cropped pink one.”

“You’re right, that one would suit me better.”

“Mmm, keep telling yourself that.”


End file.
